


Good Tidings

by Mis_Shapes



Series: Christmas Bits & Pieces [3]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Christmas Fluff, Fluff, M/M, New Year's Eve, New Year's Kiss, Snowed In
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-11
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2019-02-13 11:59:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12983607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mis_Shapes/pseuds/Mis_Shapes
Summary: Jon and Gendry find themselves trapped in student halls on New Year's EveAUideas Advent Calender: 2017 - (Kind Of) Alone for the Holidays AU:Because they wanted to save money, Character A decided to stay on campus during the holiday break and work odd jobs to pay for their dorm. It seemed like a great idea at the time…until the power went out in the building and what few students remained became snowed in.





	Good Tidings

Snowflakes flutter against the small window, clinging to the frost. The blizzard was coming to a close now, but it had already done the damage. Turning the plastic handle and giving it a small push, Jon cranes his head to look out at the entrance to the halls, its made particularly difficult by the fact that the window is fixed to only open slightly. The wind had blown with such ferocity that the snow had blown up against the door. If he wanted to get out of there he’d have to do some digging.

It was dark in the corridor to the shared kitchen, thanks to the power having cut out, and he was reluctant to use the torch on his phone without the possibility of charging for the time being. Thankfully, there was a little natural light in the kitchen itself, for now at least. He sets to work searching the almost bare cupboards for something that might work as a shovel to save his hands from the ice, and possibly some salt. Fishing out a baking tray and giving it some thought as he decides whether to try it or one of the pans he hears footsteps behind him.

“Hey.”

“Uh… Hi,” he responds, glancing round to meet the blue eyes of a dark-haired guy about his age who he assumes must also be a student staying over the Christmas holidays, “I didn’t think anyone else was here.”

“Same. I heard the noise and came to see who was around…,” his voice was impossibly cheerful for someone trapped in this hell, his smile broad, “I thought the oven was electric?”

He’s puzzled by the question to the extent that he looks to the cooker in his confusion.

“You aren’t cooking?” He asks, amused, crossing his arms.

“Oh! No… I need to get out. I have to get to work.”

“Are you planning to fly on a baking tray or something?” He jokes.

Jon can feel the embarrassment flooding across his face, the heat in his cheeks, “I just thought it might be easier than using my hands. My gloves aren’t waterproof or anything.”

“Ah, I don’t think you’ve got any hope. Even if you get outside I can see the main road from my window and none of the traffic is moving… Hey, do I know you?”

“I don’t think so?” He shakes his head.

The stranger’s eyes search him carefully until he comes to a realisation.

“Are you one of Arya’s brothers? She said one of them was here. Jon, right? I think I recognise you from some of her photos.”

He nods and asks suspiciously, “and you are?”

“Gendry,” he says, holding out his hand.

Jon takes his hand, a little surprised with how firm the grip is, and stands up from the floor, which was really quite revolting and not something he wanted to be close to for long.

“How do you know Arya?” He tries again, his tone accusing.

“Just friends, that’s all, from the boxing gym,” he clarifies, “little fighter, isn’t she?”

Jon finally allows himself to smile a little, corners of his mouth turning slightly. “You could say that.”

“I met your dad too once, I would have expected you to have been taller, but you look just like them both,” Gendry tells Jon as he walks round him and to the door, miscellaneous kitchen items in hand.

“Oh, right?” A rhetorical question with an edge of bitterness that throws Gendry a little.

“You aren’t really going through with this, are you?”

“I don’t really have a choice, I’ll lose my job if I don’t. I have to at least try,” he says with a sigh.

Walking up to the door of his room, Jon finally comes to the realisation that he’s being followed by Gendry rather than Gendry going back to his room.

“What are you doing?”

“Helping, clearly. Someone should be there to make sure you don’t freeze to death.”

Half an hour later they find themselves tugging at the doors and attempting to force them open, decked out in coats, glove and scarves, prepared for the weather. It’s obvious that they aren’t getting out, but Jon is reluctant to give up. He needs this job in order to avoid asking his step-mum for handouts, and tonight, New Year’s Eve, would be the busiest night of the year in the bar. Not only would he be met with the severe disapproval of his boss, but he’d also miss out on the tips.

“I think its frozen,” says Gendry, crouched down and peering through the crack in the door at the lock and latch.

“Fan-fucking-tastic.” Jon smacks his hands against the glass and kicks the bottom of the door in anger, as though it might relent and open up. His mood isn’t helped when he catches Gendry grinning. “What?” He snaps, trying to ignore how intoxicating the smile is.

“Nothing… Just… never mind.” He flaps his hands a little to encourage Jon to let it go.

“Go on, what? Do you think this is funny?”

“No, it’s not that. Listen, it doesn’t make much sense for us to carry on like this, we should give up, and we might as well stick together, pool resources. It’s going to be dark soon, there are some emergency candles in the kitchen and it would be daft to be burning two at the same time.”

Sat on the rough thin carpet across the glass coffee table from each other after collecting together things they might want or need and re-joining, Gendry pulls out some cards and begins to deal them.

“Have you played speed before?” He waits for confirmation, smiling when Jon nods. “Want to make it a little more interesting?”

“I don’t gamble,” Jon says, prudent as ever.

“I don’t mean with money or anything…” His eyes are bright, trying not to show how humorous he finds the level of innocence Jon portrays. “Winner gets to ask a question, loser has to answer.”

He must be a little tipsy from the whisky Gendry’s brought down, because he hears himself say, as though it were an outer body experience, “alright. Go easy on me though?”

Gendry simply smirks, finally unzipping his coat, the cold room, lit only by the solitary candle on the table, becoming a little warmer.

Predictably, he wins the first game, but he does seem to take pity on him to some degree.

“Why aren’t you home?”

He pauses, relieved the question isn’t outrageous. “It doesn’t feel much like home… Not that I don’t love my brothers and sisters. Just, I find it difficult with their mum, Cat, now that my dad’s gone.”

“Sorry, I didn’t think.” A sympathetic look washes over Gendry’s face, and his hand reaches over and rests on his wrist momentarily. Jon had forgotten it was likely Gendry knew at least a little about his home life and the touch, though not unwanted, takes him by surprise and leaves him with butterflies. All he can do is flash a bitter half-hearted smile.

When Jon wins he finds he wants to know Gendry’s answer to the same question though he suspects Gendry would give up the answer willingly without the game.

“And you? Why are you here?”

“I’m one of the residential mentors… It pays towards the rent. My mum can’t afford to give me anything towards it or anything else really. They have someone stay here in case anyone needs help or what not.” His eyes lower and finger traces the rim of his glass.

“Fat load of good you’re going to do them in this state,” Jon scolds playfully as Gendry pours out more of the whisky.

Gendry quirks an eyebrow at the mischief that has so far been uncharacteristic of him and Jon feels a nudge of his foot under the table, “are you planning on getting into some sort of bother this evening?”

“Ay, not your turn for a question yet,” Jon taunts.

Nor was it after the next round.

“What were you smiling about earlier? At the door?”

He smiles affectionately, unnaturally reserved for what Jon knows of him, muttering as he brings his glass to his lips, “you don’t want to know.”

“I do,” Jon tells him, looking him dead in the eye.

“I was thinking about how cute you were.” When Jon peaks up at him coyly from his own drink as he tries to gauge the meaning, he continues, laughing a little as he teases him, “all angry and trying to swear.”

Sighing, Jon shakes his head, still trying to figure out whether to take this as a compliment or an insult.

He purses his lips as he deals the cards out again, somewhat distracted by Gendry as he stretches back against the bottom of the sofa, resting his elbows behind him on the frayed blue seat cushions. It’s clear that he can tell the effect he’s having on him, but the haze makes him question whether it’s intentional or not.

Looking up from the game as the fireworks outside the window bring in the New Year, he effectively throws the game to Gendry who continues in the defeat without so much as a pause.

“Did you know that was about to happen?” Jon asks distrustfully, raising his brows.

“Hey hey, no questions from you,” he chides, looking between Jon and the window. “If I were to try to give you a New Year’s kiss, would that be acceptable to you?”

“No one else to get one off, is there?” Jon jokes in admission, a little embarrassed to say yes outright, licking his lip nervously.

Gendry smiles and leans across the table, taking hold of Jon’s scarf to encourage him to meet him halfway, and is taken off-guard by Jon choosing to push the table out of the way and reaching out to him. The force on the table causes the candle to fall onto the glass surface, splattering the wax over the cards and extinguishing the flame, leaving them only the colourful flashes of the fireworks outside to find each other’s lips.


End file.
